High Hopes and Aspirations
Some days Eva astounds us with her intelligence and insight. Only some days though, other days she comes across like some kind of babbling ape child with brains of mush. This morning was one of the 'brains of mush' days.
She burst into our bedroom at stupid o'clock bellowing "Dad, dad, there's something wrong in the kitchen"
"Nghhh" I replied, still asleep "kitherchin?"
"No, Dad, the kitchen"
There was not a sound coming from the wife at this point, not a snort nor a snore nor a grouch, so I reckoned she was either dead or pretending to not hear. Either way I was on my own here, so I did what any right minded Dad would do: I ignored the situation and hoped it would go away.
It didn't go away.
"Dad, dad" Eva persisted "I think it's the fridge"
"Ok" I said calmly "Go downstairs ... "
"Yes" said Eva, leaving the room.
"Come back!" I shouted "I haven't told you what to do downstairs!"
"Oh, right ..."
"Go downstairs and check if the fridge door is shut properly"
"But how do I do that?" she asked, her bottom lip quivering like she'd been set some gargantuan, impossible task.
"It's really tricky" I replied (Oh yeah, it's never too early for sarcasm) but I think you can manage. You need to ...."
"Yeah?
"Push the fridge door." Then, after careful consideration, I added "and push the freezer door too."
I'm not sure if it was the addition of the freezer door to the equation, but my suggestion was clearly unreasonable and prompted a wailing noise from Eva that eventually formed itself into "Nooooo, can you do it Daddy?!"
I remembered Roxette's 'Dressed for Success' again, but dismissed it out of hand. The curtains were shut after all.
Anyway, I got downstairs, I cautiously entered the kitchen and the fridge was standing there upright and proud making very normal fridge type noises, with both of it's doors firmly shut. I glared at the child before slouching back to bed.
Brains of mush that one like.
Favourite Days
We've had a lot of days recently that have been beautifully sunny but not very warm. These are my favourite kind of days, but only because you get to see a few people who have been hoodwinked by the sun and think it's really warm, head out in shorts and t-shirts and then end up looking like bloody idiots cos everybody else is still wrapped up warm while they are freezing cold.
Always makes me laugh.
Does that make me a bad person?
That was a rhetorical question!
Walk on the Wild Side
We all went for a nature walk for Eva yesterday afternoon, she's trying to earn some Beavers badges in her spare time. She's very competitive, so she'll probably be finished all the Beavers badges and be half way through the cubs badges before they get back to regular meetings.
Anyway, the nature walk. It was hell. A living, torturous, children being competitive over nothing hell. And grasshoppers the size of rabbits.
That last bit might need some explaining.
We were about halfway through our walk, shortly after Eva had nearly danced her way over a cliff edge and then got upset with me for telling her off about it.
A diversion from giant grasshoppers ...
The cliff edge dancing context
Me: "Let's turn around and go the other way, there's a big sheer drop here that is far too dangerous to try to climb down"
Eva's rection
(* dancing, on tip toes beyond where I said we needed to turn back) shouting "ooh, where?!"
Her arguement
"But Dad, I didn't know what the word 'sheer' meant!"
My rebuttal
"So you chose to ignore all the other words that included 'turn around' and 'go the other way' and 'too dangerous', focused on the one word you didn't know and thought you'd prance over to have a look anyway?"
Her defence
"Yessssss!"
It's hard to argue against logic like that.
Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, giant grasshoppers. So we'd just had another arguement about whether she'd seen a squirrel or a rabbit ("I think it was grey and had a funny tail!" was the the best discription she could come up, my bet was she'd made it up - the amount of noise she generates prevents the sighting of any animals on a nature walk) when we found a pile of rabbit poo.
We weren't looking for poo particularly, I hasten to add, it was just there in the middle of the path.
"What animal do you think this is from Eva?" I asked.
Henry: (*giggling) "It's poo! It's poo! Eva, Eva, it's poo! ... Mam, look! It's poo!"
Eva: (* being very serious, trying to ignore her brother) "I know this, I know this, it's ... Grasshopper poo!"
Apparently laughing at you daughters stupid comments is unfair, not the done thing, and doesn't help anybody. Sorry wife.
Eva started to storm off, then realised she didn't know where she was, so stormed halfway back again before maintaing a short distance from the rest of us that she must have thought conveyed her displeasure with us but was close enough so that she wouldn't lose us.
A moment later she spotted a dog (on a lead, a long way away) and decided that was scary enough to allow her to join us again.
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